"How did training go?" asked Effie brightly over dinner.

Piling a thick, roasted side of beef, creamy heaps of buttered mashed potatoes, a large selection of steamed vegetables, and a simmering waterfall of chunky, hearty gravy onto two enormous slices of bread, Haymitch made himself a sandwich and began to cram it into his mouth while keeping eye contact with Effie.

"You couldn't have waited to take that bite until after answering my question?" she said irritably.

Haymitch shook his head, struggling to close his mouth with the amount of food he had packed in, but enjoying the sight of Effie already looking fed up with him.

"Let's start with you, Katniss. Did you make any friends?"

"Allies," said Katniss. "I won't get to know these people long enough for us to become friends. But my allies are friends with Haymitch. I tried to bond with One, but they already know I don't run with the Career pack, so that was a waste of time. Tried out Ten and Enid liked me easily enough, but her uncle just scowled at me all day. Beetee and Wiress are a sure thing, though. If there's anything in the arena that involves electricity, it'd be nice to have Beetee around."

"Wiress could prove to be useful as well," said Portia.

"Yeah, but I felt like she was just tagging along with whatever Beetee agreed to. She's nice, but 'nice' doesn't help me in the arena as much as knowledge about technology does," said Katniss strategically.

"Saw you wiff Ramie," Haymitch interjected, having finally made a dent in the food stock piled in his mouth.

"That was for you. After the elevator incident, I figured you'd want as much space between the two of you as possible, so I tried to keep her occupied and she seemed interested in following me around anyway, though she flirted with almost everyone along the way."

"Well, that strategy won't work as well this time around," said Effie haughtily and Haymitch was amused to hear the tone in her voice that suggested she disliked Ramie making sexual advances toward him. Clueless as she was and determined for everyone to believe that she disliked him, Effie was still fiercely protective of Haymitch (probably because she believed him to be too drunk to understand that he was being taken advantage of half the time).

"She's a survivor; she'll find a way to play the arena to her advantage, just like all of the other victors," said Cinna. "I just hope someone takes her out before she gets a chance to try out her luck on television, as it were."

"I don't follow," said Katniss, looking from Cinna to Effie, expecting an explanation.

"He means that he doesn't want to see Ramie try and erm, manipulate anyone on camera because that's not something the audience wants to see. The Gamemakes will cut away to different footage if she does, but it's just like when someone says a curse word live; it's edited out of the program."

"Yeah, because killing people's a lot less disturbing than seeing people rape each other and swear. Kids today need to learn that it's a hell of a lot better to cut someone's head off than to say 'fuck' on live television," said Haymitch scathingly. "We wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong impression."

"Really, that's inappropriate," said Effie from across the table. She was chewing on the inside of her lower lip as she always did when Haymitch breached a subject that shouldn't be discussed, but what the hell did he care? He was going to die on camera anyway, so there was no point in censoring himself for her any longer.

"Do you ever listen to the words coming out of your mouth, Effie, or does it all just naturally blend into one cohesive load of garbage? I refuse to believe that you can go a year of knowing Katniss and Peeta and not see the problem with these Games, especially now that Katniss is going into the arena again. Ask yourself: if the Capitol had to send its own children into the Games, would you want to see them kill each other? Would you care about them editing out curses when you see twelve year old children having their guts ripped out?"

"Haymitch, you can't say things like that," said Cinna nervously, watching the red-headed Avox who stood nearby.

"They're gonna throw everything they've got at us victors anyway, Cinna, so I don't plan on wasting my breath while I've still got it. If they hear me, fine. No one else is. At least they'll know that I think the whole system isn't worth yellow piss."

"I seem to have lost my appetite," said Effie, rising from the table.

"And we all know what a shame that is," Haymitch retorted, watching her leave. When she had gone, Katniss hit him in the arm.

"She was trying to help."

"She was trying to get on my last nerve. I've listened to that woman talk about her fancy Capitol shit for eight years now, but I've always had to keep my mouth shut because saying anything out loud would get me executed. But it doesn't matter now, does it? And they can't just get rid of me before the Games, so they'll make sure I'll die slow once I'm inside, just to prove that they're still in power. And that'll show me, won't it?"

Haymitch reached for the dessert platter and stuffed a pastry into his mouth, daring Katniss to contradict him, and when she didn't, Haymitch excused himself to his room. He didn't have the restraint to not tear his room apart, though, so after only a minute of pacing, he decided that he needed air, and went up to the rooftop, only to find it occupied already.

Effie was standing at the railing, leaning forward to watch the city traffic below, so Haymitch figured he could back away while she was occupied, but she had heard him open the door and turned to greet him. If he had truly upset her, he would never have known, for she looked as chipper and boisterous as usual.

"Oh, come see, Haymitch. They're playing the Tribute Parade on the screen in the City Circle. I can see the faces from here!"

Resigned to appeasing her, Haymitch joined her at the railing to see his own face projected on a screen the size of a five-story building. He could only imagine how big it would look in person to the people walking the street below it. It did give him a small amount of satisfaction in imagining his enormous, scowling face glaring down at the citizens of Panem's Capitol.

He glanced sideways and saw that Effie was clearly waiting for him to say something so he cleared his throat and said quite lamely, "Yeah, um…that is…uh, that's really something."

Effie gave an impatient sigh and turned her back to the railing, using it as a support for her back as she faced inward to view the rooftop garden. "Well, you tried," she said sycophantically.

Feeling that now was as good of an opportunity as he was going to get to apologize, Haymitch picked at his teeth and continued, "Yeah, so listen, Effie, about what I said at dinner, I uh—"

"There's no need to apologize, my inebriated friend. I've been able to deflect your insults with ease for quite a while now. I simply didn't want to endure them any longer than I had to."

"No, it was rude and uncalled for, especially since I know you're not happy about this arrangement either, and not just because you're losing one of your star victors. You're upset, I know, and I'm not making it easy on you."

"You never do, but up until last year, I was used to managing the entire team myself, so to have had you on board, I appreciate your efforts."

Now feeling like a complete idiot, Haymitch watched his likeness evolve into a mockingjay alongside Katniss on the screens below. The wind made the roof slightly chilly, but he enjoyed the breeze after spending the past twenty-four hours inside. His opportunities to breathe actual oxygen from the living world were so limited that he was determined to spend as much time atop this roof as he was allowed.

"Well, it's getting late and I have several potential sponsors to meet with tomorrow during your training, so I will be going now. Are you coming back down?"

"No, I'll stay up here a while."

"Wrap yourself up so you don't catch cold," said Effie, sounding rather motherly instead of pushy for once.

"Will do."

"Yes, well…good night, Haymitch."

"Night, Effie."

Only when she had gone did Haymitch consider her words more carefully. I appreciate your efforts. Was that a subtle dig at Haymitch's mundane attempt to contribute something positive this year, or was it a bonafide compliment coming from someone who didn't know how to give one without it being slightly backhanded?

He shook out his head and slapped his face a few times to clear his thoughts. Tomorrow was another day of training and he had more important issues than the whiplash quality of Effie Trinket's mood.

/ /

After seeing the pool the Capitol had provided, Haymitch had a nagging suspicion that swimming would play a major role in the arena, but since Cashmere and Gloss once again headed straight there and he wanted as little to do with them as possible, he had to avoid the area and instead focus on some less exerting tasks like hammock-making, which he was surprisingly good at. He experimented with everything from jackets to tarps, from giant leaves to vines. Crescere joined him and together they managed to come up with a rather impressive invention of metal sheets that warped under intense heat, an old blanket, and a horse bridle.

"I can't imagine in what arena all three of these materials would be available to us, but at least our creative cogs are working," said Crescere brightly once they had finished.

"You won't have to worry much about fending for yourself in terms of finding shelter. Farrow has your back," Haymitch pointed out as he tested the hammock and rested his hands behind his head while it swung with the weight of him.

"Sadly, no, he doesn't."

Haymitch sat up so suddenly that he toppled out of the hammock and hit the dirt, causing Tyrek and Enobaria to snigger as they stood at the spear-throwing station. Dusting himself off, Haymitch leaned in closer to ask, "What do you mean he doesn't?"

"I've asked him to not worry about me and concentrate instead on getting rid of his bigger competition, emphasis on bigger," said Crescere simply. "Namely the Career pack males and Tyrek. He needs to be in peak fighting condition and he can't achieve that if he's constantly weighted down with the worry of protecting an old woman."

"That's barbaric and cold-blooded," said Haymitch. "He'd never be able to go back to Eleven if he left you right from the start. Your son—"

"Is aware of what I'm asking Farrow to do. The two of them have always been the best of friends, but I knew what I was doing when I volunteered to come back into the arena and I've lived a good life in being able to have a son. That friendship he and Farrow have helped Farrow through his first Games and in the post-Games depression. My son values Farrow more than anyone else in this world and a mother would do anything for her son's happiness—at least, any mother worth her salt. But I don't want you going around with the impression that Farrow refused to defend me in the arena; I specifically asked him to take care of himself, however necessary. He's hoping that his victory will help calm the storm in Eleven, but I think he knows it'll never really happen. In truth, though, I highly doubt he will win, which is something I knew from the moment they called his name for the reaping. I knew the likely competition and it's worse than it could have been with all the physically fit victors as well as those few Farrow became friends with. I volunteered for Baley, knowing that both of the tributes from Eleven were going to die, but I nurtured hope that I can convince Farrow to contribute to something bigger than Eleven."

There was no mistaking the point she was trying to make and Haymitch was relieved to discover that he didn't have to work particularly hard in making an alliance with her. He could rely on her to relay the message to Farrow, but whether or not her district partner would agree was another matter. Having Farrow as an opponent would be disappointing to say the least since he, along with Tyrek, Gloss, and Brutus, were larger than anyone who had agreed to fight with him and Katniss. Throw August in for good measure, and Haymitch was certain that it would be a suicidal and impossible task to protect Katniss once the gong rang.

"Don't you worry," said Crescere comfortingly. "Even if Farrow doesn't agree with me, he'll still want to take out the Careers first, which would leave your way clear."

"You're talking about sacrificing your surrogate son," said Haymitch, though not without admiration.

"And you're talking about sacrificing yourself, all for something that is more powerful than any one of us. We do it for love, Haymitch, and because the alternative is to kill our loved ones ourselves."

She left him to go and join Kilo and Demi at the edible insect station.

Haymitch wandered around, observing the more physically intimidating tributes showing off their skills while the less impressive ones tried to hide behind quieter crafts. He found himself at a station that had been devised of an entirely new system of detecting bombs and setting off explosives. Instead of simply fiddling with wires to try and detonate an explosion, there were various ways to hack into the bomb's controlled alarm. You could answer a series of pre-set questions or insert a certain type of DNA. One particularly tricky device involved listening to a musical string of notes all of which lit up on differently shaped patches on a motherboard. After the notes played and lit up their respective patches, you had to correctly copy back the melody on the correct patches or the detonation would blow you up—or in the case of the simulation, blare loudly to announce to the entire training center that you had failed.

He listened to the pattern of increasingly difficult notes, anticipating that he would fail at any moment, but the melody became hardwired in his brain until he could hear nothing else and as the final thirty-note sequence played, he quickly punched in the correct notes verbatim. A pleasant ding announced that he had completed the simulation, but then Haymitch had to wonder what in the world this would be useful for. In what sort of arena would he have to mimic a musical sequence to avoid being blown up? Nothing was so straightforward in the Games, nor were the tributes given proper training for any one specific thing related to their arena.

As he began to listen to the next pattern, he felt a hand sneak around and grasp his groin. Yelping like he had been beaten, Haymitch spun around and shoved at his assailant, readying his fists since they were his only weapons. With her pointed jawline and cold, flat grey eyes, Ramie laughed at him.

"My, my, my, but aren't we jumpy? Call me crazy, but I get the distinct impression that you've never actually been touched down there before, Haymitch. Mind if I examine the results of my first venture?"

"Try it and I'll smash your teeth in with this," Haymitch promised, brandishing the box that substituted as the simulation bomb. "Try it in the arena and it'll be your brains instead of your teeth."

"My teeth are going to be on you one way or another after the gong rings, and not like how Enobaria's would if she got close enough. Be happy in the knowledge that you'll get to have at least one sexual encounter before you die, honey. As long as I don't eat you, there's no rule that says I can't have my way with you. I mean, after all, look at what nearly happened to Olathe, and did the Gamemakers kill the tribute that did that to her? No, they didn't, because they don't care. So when we meet on the battlefield, I would be a bit nicer and more compliant because if you're not willing, it's not fun—for you, at least. Bye, bye now."

Ramie gave him a sarcastic wave and sauntered off, but Haymitch was determined to have the last say.

"If the rules don't apply to us in the arena, they won't apply here, so come on back and have a go, I will knock you on your ass!" Haymitch called after her, but then he found Mags's hand on his heart, patting it in a determined fashion and then pointing out Katniss at the neighboring station.

"I know, I know, and I am focusing on helping her," said Haymitch. "But I'm not going to let Ramie weed me out like she did to all those tributes during her first Games. Even if the Gamemakers let audiences see what she does this time, I'm not going to be the one they see it happening to, and I'm going to make damn sure that she doesn't get a chance to do it to anyone else."

Mags gave him a small smile and once again put her hand to his chest, right above his heart. She then touched the tip of her old, gnarled finger to his head so that he would be sure to get her meaning. Think with your head, not your heart, but don't let that stop you from doing what's right.

Going on a vengeance-filled spree of plowing through the arena just to kill Ramie for molesting him was not exactly wrong, but it didn't help Katniss, and even if part of his reason for doing it was to spare any other tributes from falling into Ramie's hands, he had a bigger agenda to attend to, which meant that the other tributes would have to fend for themselves. Still, he didn't like the thought of leaving people like Olathe, Demi, Kilo, Beetee, and Wiress to Ramie.

"What're you two ladies up to now?" asked Finnick as he joined them and placed a tender kiss on Mags's white head of hair.

"Well, I was about to get myself kicked out of the Training Center for going after Ramie, but Mags talked me out of it," said Haymitch.

"Really, and did she also tell you that I'd be willing to teach you some swimming techniques if you teach me how to fight with a knife?" asked Finnick wryly, and Haymitch knew the former was actually looking for a chance to speak to Haymitch alone since there was nothing Haymitch knew how to do physically that Finnick didn't know how to do better. A knife was simply a weapon Haymitch had once used; he was by no means an expert in it, but Finnick was an expert swimmer, so Haymitch decided to start there.

Mags decided to watch them while fashioning fish hooks out of various bits and bobs, so she stood at the railing as Finnick led Haymitch to the edge of the pool. There were no steps or shallow end to gradually get used to the water; you just had to jump right in and hope that you floated.

With his shoes swapped out for boots that helped his feet propel him through the water, Haymitch stood at the rim, staring down into the crystal clear surface as Cashmere and Gloss splashed nearby.

"You just gotta do it, or you'll stand there for the rest of your life," said Finnick. "The best way to get over something is to take the plunge—literally. And as soon as you jump in, hold your breath, wait for the water to push you back up, and then start treading. Move your arms like this," Finnick demonstrated what he meant by sweeping his arms horizontally in front of him. "Even if you panic, you're still going to float, as long as you don't let water in your lungs. For as long as you have air, you're going to stay above the water. And don't worry; I'll rescue you if anything other than that happens."

Water lapped over Haymitch's ankles from the wave simulation that had just started and though District 1 looked like they were enjoying themselves by riding the waves, it made Haymitch all the more reluctant to get in.

"I can push you if you want," Finnick offered.

"Just don't let One see me struggling if I start to drown," said Haymitch, and then stepped off, plunging straight down into the pool. He opened his eyes and something stung so that he quickly had to shut them again. Instinct told him to kick his legs and shoot for the surface, and when he broke through into the air, a wave came up to smack him in the face. He immediately swallowed a mouthful of something that tasted strongly of chemicals before he felt something shoved into his hands.

"It's a life preserve," said Finnick, arriving beside him. "It's harder to learn how to swim in choppy water like this, but still good practice, so just hold onto this and keep your mouth shut every time a wave comes by. Don't kick too hard or tense your muscles; you'll get a cramp. Save your energy for when the water's calm because that's when we're going to get rid of the buoy."

Trying not to be sick with the motion of the waves lifting and then throwing his body backward, Haymitch waited for them to subside, but when they had, he was reluctant to let go of his flotation device so that Finnick had to pry it from his fingers. Finnick started him on some backstrokes to get used to floating on his back and not panicking as water seeped into his ears. Twenty minutes of this followed by an additional twenty minutes of the breast stroke left Haymitch feeling marginally better about being caught in a large body of water as he observed Stele and Olathe bobbing nearby.

"What do you want to practice next?" asked Finnick. "We could do some breathing exercises and get you used to holding your air for as long as possible, or we could go through the fight or flight simulation where one of those weighted nets above us gets dropped down and you have to escape it while keeping calm."

"As tempting as that sounds, I'll pass."

Finnick dragged him out of the pool so that he could get a feel for standing up again and then he held up one of the diving sticks.

"No," said Haymitch. "I don't know how to dive."

"And an hour ago, you didn't know how to swim. It's easy. Arms together, legs together, point your body downward, and lean. You'll glide right through the water, then open up all your limbs and do your breast stroke, but down, as if you're pulling at the water. Keep your legs wide, don't flutter kick."

"And try not to die," called Cashmere from where she and Gloss were finally leaving the pool.

"You got it?" asked Finnick.

"No."

"Good, now fetch." He tossed the diving stick over his shoulder. "The faster you dive in, the faster you can catch it so you won't have to swim as deep."

Haymitch copied the pose Finnick showed him and hit the water, though it was more of a belly-flop than a dive. He wrenched his eyes open again now that they had gotten over the sting of the chemicals, and saw the glowing stick sinking quickly to the bottom. With a small burst of speed and strength, he caught the tip between two fingers and then shot up for the surface. He had just inhaled a fresh gulp of air when he felt something scratchy and heavy land on him and the second before he was pushed underwater, he could make out the firm fibers of one of those weighted nets Finnick was talking about.

The net dropped down onto him and the weights on the end made it so that he couldn't even fight his way free before he began to sink. He allowed himself ten seconds before panic set in and he struggled to wriggle out of the net's grasp, but before he could contemplate what a watery death would feel like, hands were working the net off of him, clutching him around the waist, and propelling him up. As he coughed and spluttered for air, one hand left his waist to guide him back to the wall and once there, he found himself being hauled out by Stele and Zelic.

Medical personal rushed in to assess his condition but besides a sting to his pride, he was not wounded in the slightest. They called the net dropping a technical malfunction, but Cashmere and Gloss were now nowhere near the pool and Haymitch didn't have to guess who had been the cause of the malfunction.

He looked about for Finnick to thank him for coming to his aid when he saw Olathe lifting herself out of the water with ease, tossing back her raven hair and wringing it out.

"Don't look so surprised. We have a lake in our district that children learned to swim in and those who didn't were often rescued by her," said Stele, smirking in admiration of his district partner.

Katniss had joined the group of victors who had come to investigate the source of commotion, leading to further embarrassment on Haymitch's part as his competition saw him still recovering from his near-death experience during training, of all things.

"What happened?" asked Katniss.

"District 1 happened," Haymitch muttered. "And I'm done with swimming for the day."

"The important thing to remember about water, Haymitch, is that it doesn't have a brain, so being outsmarted by it makes one wonder," called Enobaria, sharing in a private conversation with Cashmere and Gloss who had inconspicuously returned to the scene of the crime.

Seeing that August had come to watch the exchange, Haymitch asked Katniss and Finnick to help him clear the other victors away so that he might get a word or two in with the District 10 male. To his relief, August seemed to have at least taken his side concerning the pool incident.

"What exactly were they trying to accomplish in drowning you?" he wondered aloud once the other victors had returned to their training.

"Humiliation. They made me look weak because I panicked and couldn't swim out by myself, so if I act like that in other strenuous experiences, how will I react on the battlefield? They wanted to prove to everyone that I'm not worth forming an alliance with, but the joke's on them because I have six and a half districts backing me and my goal. So including me, there's fourteen people against ten who are trying to kill Katniss."

"Still stuck on that, huh?"

"I'm not stuck on it. I have active allies willing to off themselves just so she can win and rub it in Snow's face."

"She won't win. Snow will see to that," August warned.

"If she makes it to the finale and then something other than a tribute kills her, the people will riot because they'll know Snow rigged it. They'll want her as their victor again, but if someone other than Katniss wins, they'll be let down. She's already who everyone is voting for because of her relationship with Peeta. If Enid wins, you won't be there to prevent Snow from selling her to the Capitol. You agreed to give up your body so that she would never have to, but if she survives, she'll have no one left to vouch for her."

"So you think death is preferable to that fate?"

"You do, which is why you're here. It's not just to fulfill that family bond, but because you have nothing left to live for. Snow stripped that away from you when he made you strip off your clothes."

August punched him in the gut and Haymitch doubled over, winded and about to be sick from the force of the hit. Capitol observers and trainers rushed in to separate them, but August was already helping Haymitch stand upright, pulling him in close as if to shake his hand, and whispering, "You deserved that. But you're right." Then, the two were being forced apart with a warning to August that if he tried to attack his fellow tribute again, he would be removed from the Training Center. August was hardly paying attention, though, and Haymitch saw the three inner fingers on his left hand form the farewell gesture of District 12.

Seventeen against eight. Half of the opposing force on the other team with the more powerful, more experienced victors against them, but Haymitch was banking everything on having numbers outweigh experience. He was banking on far more luck and sense of camaraderie than was wise, but he knew he was doing better in procuring a shield for Katniss against the arena than Peeta could have done. Even if Haymitch was decent in winning sponsors for Katniss, he was better equipped to defend her in the arena since Peeta had been taken out of the action so early and proved only to be a liability.

Haymitch was Katniss's biggest advocate, so now that he had all of the allies he had hoped to secure, there was nothing for him to do, no amount of words he could preach to the others to make them sign a truce that stated that neither side would engage in a bloodbath. When the time came, they would be monsters to contend with, but with the majority of the tributes siding with Katnisss, it was the very best they could hope for.